“Who said you can do anything for me?” She sounded upset.
“Okay…”
“It was awful. The fucking police. They took Harry’s things. My father’s rifle. They tookme. And the interrogation room… it had that kind of glass, where you know someone’s on the other side but you can’t see them.” Something occurred to her, and she asked, “Were you there? Were you watching me?”
Ms. Albrecht was pretty fired up, and also maybe drunk, though it was hard for Brodie to tell in his own tipsy state. “I was not there.”
“But you could have been.”
In fact, heshouldhave been, but he and Taylor were homeward bound.
Anna continued, “Chief Inspector Schröder. Such an asshole. You’d think I murdered Harry, the way he talked to me.”
“Anna, you knew exactly what was going to happen. And it might have gone differently if you had been proactive about going to the police. When they come toyou, it’s definitely different. But that’s the only thing you did wrong. No one thinks you had anything to do with Harry’s death.” He added, to be conciliatory, “Schröder is an unpleasant prick, I agree. Hopefully this will be your last interaction with him.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then she asked, “What’s all that noise?”
“The rain.”
“Why are you in the rain?”
“Because I couldn’t hear you in the bar. Anything else?”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. For a moment he thought she’d hung up; then she asked, “Who are you with at the bar?”
“I’m alone.”
Another long pause. Then, “Why don’t you come over here for a drink? You’re… the only other person I know who knew Harry. We could toast his memory.”
Friedrich had been an interesting drinking companion, but this was definitely a better offer. He said, “I can be there in about twenty if I can find a cab.”
“You will find a cab.” She hung up.
Brodie slipped his phone into his pocket and stood in the rain. Ms. Albrecht was drunk and lonely. So was Scott Brodie. Why not help each other out? He realized this might conflict with his dinner plans with Taylor. Should he invite her along? Definitely not.
He dialed Taylor, and she picked up. “Hi, Scott.”
“Hi. I can’t do dinner tonight.”
“Why?”
“The weather sucks.”
“It sounds like you’re out in it.”
“That’s how I know it sucks. Went for a walk.”
“That’s not a good idea, alone at night.”
“I’m fine.”
“When are you coming back?”
Depends. Should he tell her that he’d made plans with a beautiful and perhaps unstable German woman who seemed to have a thing for American military men? Probably not. “Later. I just need to be alone for a while.”
“All right… I understand. This is tough for me too.” She added, “I was going to tell you at dinner, but I found some interesting things on the HVA—the Stasi’s foreign Intel service. If you’re interested.”
He was interested, but also slightly intoxicated, and very impatient to get to Prenzlauer Berg. “Give me the CliffsNotes.”
